


I Choose You

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Veterinarians, F/M, Kittens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 07:27:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7499376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy is just trying to find some stupid Pokemon. That's all he wants to do. But he ends up stumbling across a bunch of orphaned kittens, and it's not like he can just leave them. He's not a monster.</p>
<p>And it's not like he knew his sister wanted to set him up with her vet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Choose You

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I'm not saying I'm going to write a TON of Pokemon Go AUs, but I actually did find a stray cat while I was playing last weekend and that is the kind of scenario that must be used. Plus, I always want to be thinking about Bellamy Blake holding tiny kittens in his gigantic hands. That is where I am as a human being.

He should have seen it coming, really. It's just so perfectly pathetic, he absolutely should have predicted this would happen. It's like Murphy's Law, but really, really stupid.

Here's how it happens: first, he gets Pokemon Go, and then, like all the other nerds, he starts going outside and appreciating nature, because that's what he has to do to collect imaginary monsters for dubious value on his phone.

And then, he finds actual kittens.

Not that he hasn't seen plenty of real animals in the neighborhood in his Pokemon wanderings. It didn't feel weird to see squirrels and dogs, but those were clearly pets or wildlife. The kittens are, well--there's no very good explanation for a bunch of mewling kittens under a bush except that they're orphaned or abandoned or generally miserable.

He takes a picture and texts it to Miller: _Meowth, right_?

_Looks more like Espurr to me_ , Miller shoots back. And then, _What the fuck, seriously_

_I don't know, they were just out here._

One of the kittens mewls, small and plaintive, and Bellamy worries his lip. Because this is the kind of thing he has to deal with, right? He would be a terrible person if he just let the kittens die.

God, even thinking it is horrible. No one _lets kittens die_. He couldn't possibly. 

Bellamy has never in his life had a pet. He gets the appeal, but in their apartments growing up, they weren't allowed to have pets, and he wouldn't have wanted to pay for one anyway. Octavia has a couple dogs now that he takes care of when she's out of town, and he feels fairly competent with them, but they don't make him want his own. 

Still, it's not like he has to _keep_ the kittens. He just needs to get them out of the park and looked at by some kind of authority. And then that authority will deal with them.

He closes Pokemon Go so he can call Octavia as he walks home.

"Did you catch a legendary Pokemon?" she asks without greeting. "Are you so excited you had to call me about it? Depending on which one, that's legit."

"What's your vet's address?" he asks.

"My vet?"

He sighs. "I found a litter of kittens."

She _cackles_. "How?"

"The normal way."

"There's no normal way to find a litter of kittens."

He sighs. "I was looking for Pokemon and heard them meowing," he admits. "I'm just gonna find a box and take them to the vet. That's what you do with kittens, right?"

"Usually you plan to get kittens and already know what's going on," she says. "How old are they?"

"How would I know? I'll text you a picture." Luckily, he hadn't gotten far from his apartment, and he lets himself in and finds an Amazon box he hasn't recycled yet to reconstruct. He adds a towel, for good measure. "Just tell me where I'm going."

There's a weirdly long pause. "Yeah, you should definitely take them to the vet. It's Dr. Griffin, Arkadia Animal Hospital. I'll text you the address."

"Thanks, O."

He sends her the picture, notes the address, and takes the box out with some fish he had in his fridge. It's not good fish or anything, but--they're orphaned kittens. They probably aren't picky. Any food is good food.

He scrubs his face. "Fuck."

They're right where he left them, still no sign of their mother, still mewling unhappily. They're no larger than his hands, and he scoops them up one by one, hopes he won't have to get rabies shots. None of them are trying to bite him, but maybe he can get contract rabies. He doesn't know.

When he bought his car, it felt extravagant, like an expense he couldn't justify. He doesn't _need_ a car, even if it's more convenient, given how long it takes to get to school on public transportation and his odds of running into his students. But now he's grateful for it, because he feels weird enough walking around with a box full of abandoned kittens. He doesn't even want to imagine trying to find his way to the vet's office with said box on his lap. He would be one of those eccentric bus people. Someone might try to _talk to him_ about his kittens.

"You guys owe me," he tells them, and they don't even look up from the fish.

Ingrates.

Arkadia Animal Hospital isn't far, and there's not too much traffic at three on a Wednesday afternoon. Teaching has a lot of ups and downs, but he does enjoy his summers off, except for the persistent, nagging voice in the back of his head that tells him he should be doing more prep for his classes. 

Plus, he's got all this time to play Pokemon and rescue kittens. That counts for something.

The girl behind the desk is probably college-aged and definitely has her phone held up in Pokemon-Go position when he comes in, so he feels like this was probably a good place to come. She also looks a little dazzled by his smile, which, okay, she's young enough it weirds him out, but it's always nice to be appreciated.

"Hi, I'm looking for Dr. Griffin? Or I guess it doesn't have to be Dr. Griffin. I found some stray kittens and asked my sister who her vet was, and that's apparently Dr. Griffin. So I'm hoping you guys can help."

"Oh, yeah, of course," says the girl, half-tripping over her own tongue. "Let me just see if I can find Clarke. Um, where are the kittens?"

"I just put them in a box with a towel and some fish I had in the fridge," he says, jerking his head to it. "I can take them somewhere else if you want."

"We'll probably put them in the back. I'll just, um. I'll be right back."

Bellamy sits down next to the box and leans over to check on his charges. There are four of them, and they're mostly gray with stripes. Three of them are napping in a pile, but the fourth is pawing at the side of the box, mewling softly. It has white paws and green eyes, and it's looking at him like he could save it. Again.

"What?" he asks. "You don't like the box?" It meows again, and he sighs. "If I take you out, are you gonna try to run? Or bite me? If you try to run or bite me, you're going back in the box." 

He doesn't get an answer, of course, but the thing is still roughly the size of his hand. He can probably keep it from escaping.

All it really seems interested in, once it's out, is butting against his hand and then curling up on his thigh to be petted, which he can basically handle. Aside from a nagging worry that he's going to break it, he actually feels like he's doing pretty well with the kitten. The thing is cute.

"You must be the guy with the kittens."

The woman has her arms crossed over her chest, but her expression is amused. Her wavy blonde hair is loosely braided away from her face, and her eyes are blue and bright behind her glasses.

And she's wearing scrubs with giraffes on them, as a bonus. 

"I usually go by Bellamy," he says, nearly forgetting the kitten on his lap and standing to greet her. He remembers just in time, plucks it up delicately and returns it to the box before offering the vet his hand. "But I guess I don't usually have kittens."

"Yeah, any time you have kittens, that's the most remarkable thing about you. Take it from a vet." She shakes his hand. "I'm Clarke Griffin. I hear you asked for me."

For some reason--he thinks it's the combination of _Doctor_ with a mythological last name--he'd pictured Dr. Griffin as a Hogwarts professor type, some eccentric guy with bushy eyebrows and a wild beard. 

Given Octavia's reaction to his bringing kittens in, it makes a lot more sense that Dr. Griffin is a cute blonde who looks a little bit like she wants to tease him.

"Yeah, my sister is one of your regular patients. I don't have pets so I just asked her who her vet was and figured I could bring them to you. Sorry if that's a problem."

"No, of course not. Bring them in to the exam room, I'll take a look."

He blanches. "I'm not, uh--I wanted to get them adopted, can I do that here, or--I can't keep four cats."

"I thought you might want to see how they were," says Clarke. "But if you just want to drop them and run, you can." Her smile gets a little playful. "But you were bonding with one of them."

"It seemed bored," he says. Not that there's any way he's leaving now. "I'll come. But--you have something to do with them, right? Or do you want me to take them to a shelter?"

"Depends on what I find when I'm looking at them. Come on."

He follows her into the exam room and puts the box down on the table. "Do you want me to take them out?"

"No, that's okay. I'll handle it." She washes her hand and lifts one of the kittens up with care; this one has darker stripes and a black tip on its tail, and it tries to hiss at Clarke as she holds it. "Be quiet," she says, absent. "This won't even hurt." She puts it down on the table and starts examining it with mechanical precision. She must have done this a lot. "So, who's your sister?"

"Huh?"

"You said you got my name from your sister. Who's your sister?"

"Oh. Octavia Blake."

She hums. "Castor and Pollux, right?"

"Yeah, that's her."

"She said you got her started on mythological theme-naming."

"Octavia is historical, not mythological," he says, and Clarke smirks at him. He smiles back, sheepish. "I might be a good overall resource for classics."

"You don't say." She bites her lip. "You didn't see any sign of a mother cat or anything?"

"No, I didn't," he says. "Not that I looked that hard. But there aren't really a lot of cats in my neighborhood. And most of them look like pets. A pet wouldn't just have had kittens under some bush in the park, right?"

"Probably not. How did you find them?"

He opens his mouth and then closes it. The thing is, Dr. Clarke Griffin is very pretty, and has a nice smile, and she is currently handling and caring for a bunch of kittens while teasing him about his predilection for classical references. And of course he doesn't think this is a logical dating situation. He's not planning to ask her out or anything. But he'd like to make an overall good impression.

But he also kind of likes the way her mouth twists when she seems amused by him, so he says, "Yeah, uh, I was playing Pokemon Go. It's a phone app, you--"

"I know what Pokemon Go is," she says, and she _definitely_ thinks he's ridiculous. But he somehow doesn't mind being this kind of ridiculous. He's a legitimate adult most of the time. And for a long time, he was way too serious and legit. For a long time, he was afraid of anyone thinking anything about him, except that he was responsible and capable of taking care of his sister all by himself.

Ridiculous is nice, honestly.

"What were you trying to catch?" she continues.

"Rapidash."

"I guess Meowth would have been too obvious." He must be gaping a little, because she grins. "It's a _phenomenon_ , Bellamy. Of course I've got it. I even did the special trick to get Pikachu as my starter."

"Pikachu, seriously?"

She puts the kitten she was examining back in the box and grabs a second. "What's wrong with Pikachu?"

"Nothing's _wrong_ with Pikachu," he says. "It's fine. I just don't get the big appeal. It's cute, but so are all the starters. And it was such a shitty starter if you actually wanted to _play_ the first gen games. O liked the TV show so she begged and begged for Yellow when it came out, and then the first gym kicked her ass and she just gave up on the game. I had to train her team up for three weeks to get through it, and by the time I did, she didn't even want it anymore."

Clarke is smiling, soft and a little unfocused. "O is your sister?"

"Yeah."

"So you took the game and became a Pokemon master, right?"

He shrugs. "Well, she wasn't using it."

"And did you catch the Rapidash in the park?"

"No. I was worried about the kittens."

"Very noble."

"I try. How do they look?"

She hums again. "Okay? They're decently well-fed, but not as well as I'd like. I'd guess the mom stopped showing up, but pretty recently. Anything could have happened to her, but--I think they were abandoned. The two I've checked so far are boys. They should be fine, if we take care of them. And they're kittens, so they won't have any trouble getting adopted."

He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Yeah?"

"If you'd brought in a five-year-old stray, I'd be worried. But kittens? Everyone wants kittens." She pulls his kitten out, and he moves forward, just a little. "Even you," she adds, with a smug smile.

"Shut up," he says, automatic, and her smile widens, no offense taken.

"This is a girl. They're probably about three or four weeks old? You can see they're not really steady standing yet, but they ate the food you gave them, so they can handle it a little. Which means you've got a few weeks to make your mind up about adopting one."

"Who says I'm making my mind up?" he asks, crossing his arms over his chest, and Clarke grins at him until he melts. "How many weeks?"

"At least five, probably six. It's tough because part of it is not taking them away from their mother too early, but I'm pretty sure the mother's not in the picture anymore. Usually we wait to adopt them until they're fixed, so I can give you a call when that happens."

"What happens with them until then?" he asks. The kitten has come over to him now that Clarke let her go, and she's butting her head against his chest.

"We take care of them," she says. "We're equipped for that, and it's easier for us to do it than the shelter because they're going to need monitoring in case they have medical issues. Worms or something."

"Rabies?"

"I doubt it. You have to get bitten to get rabies, and I don't see any sign of injury on them. And, honestly, anything that bit them would probably just kill them, with how small they are. So we'll monitor them, but I'm not worried about it. You can get rabies shots, if it'll make you feel better."

"None of them bit me, so I think I'm safe."

She hums again and then says, "You know, we're a Poke-stop," conversational.

"I noticed, yeah."

"I don't know how your Fridays look, but we have volunteer hours for people to come in and hang out with our animals. I could probably pull some strings and make sure you get to check on the kittens."

"I teach high school," he says, giving up and picking up the kitten so he can pet her better. "So my summer is pretty open."

Clarke gets the last kitten out. "What do you teach?"

"History."

"I was guessing Latin."

"I have layers," he says. "I do run the mythology club, if that makes you feel better."

She laughs. "So much. So, Fridays. You can give Fox your information, and she'll be in touch."

"Can I come this week?" he asks. "Do you have to do background checks or something?"

Her smile softens. "No, I think you're fine. Like I said, give Fox your information. You can come by any time from noon to four to play with them. And catch some Pokemon."

"Thanks. Do I need to do anything else for them? Food or shots or--"

"We don't make you pay for that when you selflessly give up catching a Rapidash to take care of kittens. Give a donation if you want, and if you end up adopting one, we'll still charge you the adoption fee, but you're set for today."

The kitten is _purring_ , and Clarke is pretty. He's completely doomed. "Can I reserve this one? Is that allowed?"

She ducks her head, smiles. "I think I can pull some strings."

*

Octavia calls that night. "So, how'd your kitten adventure turn out?"

"Your vet's taking them," he says. "Apparently they're too young to be adopted so they've got a few weeks of being fostered or whatever." He pauses. "I'm going in on Friday to hang out with them."

"How many were there? How many are you adopting? You're going to be one of those cat people now, aren't you? You and your cats roving the streets, looking for Pokemon."

"I'm taking one, probably. She was friendly. Don't make it a big deal."

"I didn't say anything," she says, because he raised a fucking _liar_. "Did Dr. Griffin help you, or one of the others?"

"Dr. Griffin," he says. 

Octavia makes a noncommittal noise he does not trust at all. "Did you say hi to her for me?"

"I said you were my sister and apologized for your entire existence."

She snorts. "Thanks, Bell."

"Any time."

"You liked her, though," Octavia says, strangely thoughtful. "Dr. Griffin."

"She's a vet," he says. "She helped with the kittens. I don't know what you're expecting here."

"God, you're so paranoid. She's cool. I thought you guys might hit it off."

"I can't believe you're trying to set me up with your vet," he says, even though he can, and he wouldn't mind if it worked. Not that he's going to hit on her or anything, but--he _did_ like her. In an incredibly limited sense. He thinks she's cute and kind of fun. It's not a basis for marriage or anything. 

"I don't want you to marry her, jesus," O says, like she's reading his mind. "I just think you need more friends."

"Like your vet."

"You totally liked her," O says, because she's the worst. There's no trace of doubt in her voice. "I'm gonna figure out how to socialize with her. She's cool. And the other doctor there, Dr. Birch? He's really hot. So we need to figure out where they go drinking."

"Maybe they don't drink."

"Which is also valuable information to have, because who wants friends who don't drink?"

"You don't want friends at all," Bellamy grumbles. "If the other vet is so hot, why do you go to Clarke?"

It really does slip out. And, honestly, he doesn't know _why_ he calls her Clarke. He knows her in a professional capacity, he should call her Dr. Griffin like Octavia does. But it's so easy to think of her as Clarke. Like they really are friends.

"Clarke?" Octavia demands.

"It's her name, O. Don't get excited."

"You're gonna make a friend," she coos. "Anyway, she's a good vet and I didn't know about the other one until after I'd already seen her like three times. You cant just switch vets because another one is hotter. It's awkward."

"Life lessons with Octavia Blake."

"I'm a resource." She clucks her tongue. "So, when do you hang out with the kitten?"

"Friday, noon to four. I'll just drop in when I feel like it."

"Ask if she has big weekend plans. Ideally with the other hot vet."

"They're probably both married. With a bunch of kids."

"She doesn't wear a ring," says O, because she notices this shit and cares. "So probably not married. I get a single vibe off her. And it doesn't matter if we're just making friends, right?"

"It also doesn't matter that they're hot. It does matter that you're incredibly creepy, though."

"Normal people make friends, Bell!"

"Uh huh. I'm not going to ask her about her weekend plans. But if it comes up, I'll keep you posted."

It doesn't, for the first two weeks. The first two weeks, he barely sees her at all, which he guesses shouldn't surprise him. She has a job, after all, and while she makes a point to stop by and say hi both times he's there, even chat a little, she doesn't actually stay.

The third week, he brings some work to do and ends up sitting on the floor with his kitten in his lap and the other kittens scattered around him, completely losing track of time. He has lesson plans to do and they're tough to get through, when he's back at his apartment and surrounded by distractions. The floor of the animal hospital is surprisingly comfortable, and the kitten purring in his lap is less distraction than good company.

"We're closing in five minutes," he hears, and startles at the sight of Clarke leaning against the doorway, amusement plain on her face.

"What?" he asks, but then it catches up with him. "Shit, closing? What time is it?"

"We close at six, so it's five-fifty-five. QED."

"Shit, I'm sorry. I had no idea. I was working, I--"

"I told Fox not to kick you out. It's fine. But I can't actually let you sleep here. It probably opens us up to some liability."

"Yeah, I'm sorry." He scoops the kitten off his lap and rubs his chin against her head whens he protests. "Sorry, Cleo. I gotta go."

Clarke is biting the side of her mouth, like she doesn't want to smile, but she's also smiling so that's clearly not working. "Cleo?"

"Short for Cleopatra. If I don't get her in a few weeks, you're going to break my heart, by the way."

"Lucky for you, you've got an in." She pushes off the door and helps him round up the other cats; he has no idea how he didn't notice everyone else leaving, but he got in the zone. "You're really good with them. I'm surprised you've never had pets before."

He shrugs. "It's not hard, right?"

"It is and it isn't. You need a kind of patience, I guess. It helps that Cleo likes you, but she's not always nice to you, and you're still gentle with her."

"Yeah, I learned that one the hard way," he says without thinking, and of course Clarke cocks her head at him, curious. He wishes he hadn't said anything, but it's too late now. "Octavia. I raised her for a lot of her childhood, and she was a handful. At first I was all about grounding her and restrictions, telling her who her friends could be, how late she could be out, and she pushed back. I figured out it was easier if I tried to be her ally than her father."

"How old were you?"

"I didn't get custody until I was nineteen," he says. "But I was taking care of her for a while before that."

"That would explain it, yeah."

He stretches. "Do you need any help cleaning up or anything? I don't want you to have to stay late because some asshole wouldn't leave the kittens."

"No, we're pretty much all set." She worries her lip, looking hesitant, but adds, "I'm actually grabbing drinks with a few friends, if you want to come."

"I'm supposed to hang out with Octavia," he says, thinking fast. "But we didn't have much specific planned. Can she come?"

"Yeah, of course," says Clarke, beaming. "The more the merrier. Invite anyone you like."

He's not convinced it's her trying to figure out if he's single, but he figures he can take it as a chance to tell her anyway. "Yeah, just O. She says I need more friends. My best friend Miller's out of town for the summer, so until he gets back it's basically just me and Octavia and the Pokemon."

"Yeah, you definitely need a cat."

"Or more friends."

"Which is why you're coming for drinks with me," she says, and he smiles back helplessly.

He texts Octavia, who responds with just a bunch of exclamation points, and then hangs out in the lobby while Clarke closes up. She apparently lives close to the animal hospital, because when he asks if he should just follow her to the bar, she says, "Oh, it's not far, we can walk. Or you can give me a ride, if you don't want to leave your car."

"Walking's fine," he says. "I like walking."

"There are a bunch of poke-stops on the way, too," Clarke says, innocent, and he snorts.

"What team are you, anyway?" he asks her.

"Mystic."

"Huh."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I would have guessed Valor."

"Is that what you are?"

"Nope. Insight."

"Oh wow. Really? Insight?"

"I liked his message."

"I just like blue. And the leader's coat."

"What's your most powerful Pokemon?"

They compare Pokedexes and catch a few things on the way to the bar, and by the time they get there, he's feeling pretty comfortable with her. She's twenty-seven and has been a vet for two years, after she decided she liked medicine but didn't like working on people. He doesn't exactly ask if she's seeing anyone, but he asks who else is coming, and her run down includes Lincoln, the other vet (he assumes the hot one), Raven, whom she met because they were dating the same guy, Niylah, her ex-girlfriend, and Monty, her roommate. It seems like the kind of thing a current significant other would come to, so it seems likely she's single.

Hot, single, into Pokemon, likes animals. O might have been right about this, honestly. He needs to figure out how to make this happen.

"Did you bring a date, Griffin? Holy shit."

Clarke rolls her eyes, but links her arm with his. "He's the guy who brought in that box of kittens. Bellamy, this is Raven, Monty, Lincoln, and Niylah. He's cool. Guys, this is Bellamy. He's cool. And his sister's coming. She's cool too. She has those big shepherds, Lincoln."

"Ah, yes. Those are good dogs."

"He's also a master Pokemon trainer, so don't let his arms fool you into thinking he's not a nerd." Before he can respond to that, she claps her hands. "Drinks?"

She likes his arms; that's definitely what she was saying. He grins. "Drinks."

*

After that, he and Clarke start being _friends_. They exchange numbers, and Clarke texts him sometimes when she gets annoyed with people, and he sends her screenshots of Pokemon he's caught in weird places. By the next Friday, he's actually a little nervous about going to the animal hospital, not sure what might happen between them. And then he feels stupid, because what does he really think _is_ going to happen? 

What does happen is that, as usual, he comes in, gets his cats, and settles in to work. It's earlier than sometimes, mostly because he was nervous all morning, and being alone in his apartment was just making him antsy. Here is better. He likes it here. He's covered in kittens.

It's only a few minutes before he feels someone next to him, and then Clarke is there against his side, warm and smelling like antiseptic.

"Hi," he says, surprised.

"Hi. I'm on lunch, I thought I'd eat in here."

"Sure." He glances around, but none of the other volunteers are paying attention to them, so he shifts a little closer, lowers his voice. "Bad day? Want a kitten?"

"You with kittens is fine," she says, and takes a sandwich out of her lunch bag. So she probably misses him blushing, at least. "It wasn't a bad day, I just didn't sleep well last night."

"Yeah? Why not?"

"Nightmares. It happens sometimes. But it's nice to have company after." She reaches over to scratch Cleo. "Animals help too."

"Good thing you're a vet."

"Good thing." She yawns and offers him a bite of her sandwich, and he takes one. Peanut butter and jelly, which makes him feel like a kid again. He and Octavia ate so much peanut butter growing up.

"Are you like this with all the guys who bring in kittens, or is it just me?" he can't help asking. It can't be normal, right? She's practically cuddling with him. He doesn't mind, he just wants to be sure.

"Just you," she says. "I can stop."

He lets himself wrap his arm around her. "Nah. Don't stop."

She finishes her lunch and half-dozes on him until one of the dogs returns from its walk and jumps on her, and then she's on the floor and laughing as it licks her face. 

"This is why I don't come in here much," she says. "Too risky."

"If you don't want dogs jumping on you, you should maybe think about a new job," he teases.

She smiles. "You might have a point."

"Do you need to get back to work?"

"Pretty soon. Fox will come get me for my next appointment." She looks a little nervous. "Are you staying again?"

"Past visiting hours, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"If you let me, sure. Are you getting drinks again?"

"Nope." He sees her swallow, and then she meets his eyes, determined and deliberate. "But I'm hoping I've got a date."

"Smooth," he teases, and resists the urge to lean in and kiss her. After all, there are people here, and he can apparently do that tonight. "Did you have anywhere in mind?"

"I didn't get much past asking you," she says, and that's awesome too. She was _nervous_.

Fox sticks her head in before he can respond. "Mrs. Phillips is here with Bruiser, Clarke."

"Cool. Thanks, Fox." She stands and stretches. "This is me. I won't be offended if you leave, but see you at six either way?"

"I'll be here, yeah. Just come get me."

It's a lot harder to lose track of time when he's thinking about a date with Clarke at six, which sucks because he'd really love if time was flying right now. Instead, he switches between playing with his kittens, trying to do his lessons, checking for Pokemon, and looking at restaurants on Yelp, without giving that much of his brain to any of them. At least he comes up with three dinner options and figures out another unit outline for his AP US History class.

Finally he texts his sister, _I've got a date with my hot vet, so you need to up your game_ , and she replies, _I FUCKING TOLD YOU SO_ , and that conversation eats a good hour. 

He's mesmerizing the kittens with a laser pointer when Clarke comes for him, and she leans back into his side like she's done it a thousand times.

"So this is definitely just me," he says.

"Completely. I've never hit on anyone else who brought kittens in."

"Well, Pokemon Go hadn't come out yet, so you couldn't tell they were nerds," he says, and she laughs. 

"That's exactly it. Plus, the kittens are going to be ready to be adopted soon, so I had to make sure I was going to keep seeing you."

There's no one else around, so he does lean down to kiss her then, soft and a little slow, at least until her hand slides up his neck to tangle in his hair, with just the barest scrape of nails against his neck, and he cant' help groaning. Then his hands anchor themselves on her hips and they're _kissing_ , wet and hot and perfect. It's been way too long since he did this. It's been even longer since he felt this way, stupid with possibility. This could be something. He's so sure.

He makes himself pull away when one of the kittens starts whining at him, presumably because his attention is no longer solely on it.

"Cats are great cockblockers," Clarke says, and he nearly kisses her again just because her mouth is so red and perfect. "I should have warned you before you got attached."

"To you or to the cat?" he teases.

"Me. You were a goner for the cat before I even met you."

He does kiss her again then, quick. "I think we'll manage."

"You and me or you and the cat?"

"All three of us. Dinner?"

Her grin is his new favorite thing. "Dinner sounds perfect."

*

Two weeks later, they spend their Saturday getting ready for Cleo, Clarke following him around Petsmart and assuring him he really only needs to buy one giant climbing structure and giving him the pros and cons of litter boxes, and then following him home to help get it all assembled and placed. Which is good, because it's surprisingly complicated; he'd definitely be freaking out on his own. 

And then, finally, they go to the animal hospital, the weekend reception girl gives him the paperwork, he pays the adoption fee and gets his very own kitten.

"I'm gonna need a lot of help with this," he tells Clarke, as Cleo wails in the carrier in the back of the car. She was fine the _first_ time she was back there; obviously he's glad she's no longer so traumatized she won't make any noise, but he doesn't really love the howling.

"Good thing you've got a veterinarian girlfriend," she replies, absent, trying to get a poke-stop before they pass it. "To guide you through this difficult time."

"That was the main reason I started dating you, yeah."

"And my boobs."

He inclines his head. "And your boobs."

They take the cat in and show her her food and litter box before they let her poke around, smelling things until she decides she'd rather hide under the couch until the world stops being overwhelming. Which, honestly, Bellamy can relate.

"That's normal," Clarke says.

"Yeah, I figured. Who doesn't like hiding under things? There's an Eevee you can probably catch."

"Oh, awesome, I'm really close to having enough candy to evolve one." She tucks herself into his side. "So, is this better than a Rapidash?"

"Is what?"

"Kitten, girlfriend, the knowledge that you saved three other kittens who went to good homes. All that."

"I don't know. It might have been a really good Rapidash. I don't have a really strong fire-type right now, so--"

She laughs and elbows him. "How much CP does a Rapidash need to have before you like it better than me?"

"I don't know." He kisses her hair. "If I ever find one, I'll let you know."

"I wouldn't dump you for anything less than a legendary," Clarke says. "But I'd shove you in traffic to get a Mew."

"Just take my phone first so you can get me one too. And then call an ambulance, I guess."

"Once I catch it." She snuggles closer. "But I'll keep you until then."

"Deal," he says, and smiles when Cleo jumps up on the couch to join them.

Honestly, that moment alone is worth its weight in fire horse Pokemon. But he's not going to tell her that now; that's the kind of sappy declaration he can save for an anniversary or their wedding or something.

He's got nothing but time.


End file.
